


Servants Of The State

by hpstrangelove



Category: The Administration - Manna Francis
Genre: Don't copy to another site, M/M, Not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 07:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17039216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpstrangelove/pseuds/hpstrangelove
Summary: Being in charge of the Administration’s security detail for the American President’s visit to New London was a career-making assignment – but only if Toreth managed to live through it.





	Servants Of The State

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Winoniel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winoniel/gifts).



> Dear Winoniel - I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. There can never be too much Administration fic!
> 
> I assume that the reader has some knowledge of the Administration Series, along with some of the terms, technology, and politics of their world. Please note: there are spoilers through Book 9.

**Servants Of The State**

“The Administration wants a controlled, qualified normalization of relations with the United States—that’s Council policy. They’re allowing more open trade along with more corporate connections, and instigating a slow social realignment to support the broader economic and strategic goals.” Socioanalyst Darcy Grimm

“If a threat cannot be contained, and to an adequate extent controlled, then it must be eliminated.” Socioanalyst Jean-Baptiste Carnac

⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯

“Was your trip to see Secretary Turnbull a success?” Carnac asked.

“No.” Camille du Pre sounded disgusted, a rare display of emotion for her. “I tried to get her to see sense. I was overruled. There were concerns that killing Toreth now would draw undue attention back to the case, possibly exposing Socioanalysis’ part in the corporate conditioning strategy.”

Du Pre poured herself a cup of chamomile tea, then took a seat across from Carnac.

Carnac had known the day he’d called to tell her about Keir’s contacting him that something was not quite right. She must have concluded after she reviewed their conversation that he’d caught on because she’d called him in and explained the situation. He shouldn’t have felt flattered that she’d confided in him, but he did. And to be a part of the experiment itself, along with its future applications, was just the kind of intellectual challenge he desired. Unlike the revolt, it was a much less – messy – way in which to effect change.

“I can see their point,” Carnac replied, disappointed that once again, Toreth seemed to have more lives than a cat. “So many other inept investigators would have had the case closed as soon as the storage facility rental expired. What were the odds he’d be given the case?”

“Are you proposing a study?” she asked. 

“No, merely making an observation. You know I’ve been a good little socioanalyst and kept my distance, both from him and from Dr. Warrick.”

Carnac sighed inwardly. He disliked that she knew his weakness when it came to that bastard Toreth. Even now, he could still feel Toreth’s hands on his waist, Toreth’s breath hot in his ear as the man tormented him about their night together, the night he couldn’t remember. That was the worst of it. No matter how much he wanted to believe that Toreth had been lying to him about how he had begged Toreth to fuck him – Carnac knew it was the truth. He thought putting distance between himself, Keir, and Toreth would eventually diminish the painful memories, and for a while it had, until Keir’s call.

“Don’t look distressed. Despite this small set-back, congratulations are in order,” she said. “The experiment was successful. We know now that the data can be extrapolated from a large sample to the general population. Despite Toreth’s untimely arrival, the files were transferred to NISS without incident. Dr. Howes is leaving next week to meet with our contact in North America. We have five months to get the program in place, making any necessary adjustments for outliers. By November, everything should be ready.” 

“That is more than adequate time,” he said. “Will I be allowed to observe?”

“I think arrangements can be made for a short trip in November. I’ll set up a meeting with Darcey Grimm and she can brief you on her experience there.

“As for the para-investigator – he’s smart. He may make the connection, and I do not have the faith that Secretary Turnbull has in him that he will keep quiet. When the timing is optimal, he will be dispatched, and in a manner that does not point back to Socioanalysis. In the mean-time, given that you perhaps know Toreth the most – intimately – I believe it is in Socioanalysis’ best interest that your prohibition from contact with Dr. Warrick and Toreth shall be rescinded. Someone needs to monitor the situation in New London, and now that you are aware of the details of the conditioning program, I think you are the most suitable.” 

Carnac took a sip of his tea. He closed his eyes a moment, savouring the warmth.

⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯

“Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I wanted to report on this in person.”

“Have a seat. Would you like some coffee?”

Charles Jones, the section head of Corporate Comm Monitoring, sat in one of the two chairs across from Sable’s desk.

“Coffee would be nice, thank you.”

Sable poured them each a cup, then took a seat.

“So what is this all about?”

“Last week, two encrypted comm messages went through using an old but allowable pattern. The pattern wasn’t flagged as a priority, so they were processed by normal decoding channels. Even then, there was nothing remarkable about them and they were about to be sent on to general retention when one of the names tripped a security file need-to-know high level watch, on Para-investigator Valantin Toreth in the I&I Division. The watch was placed there by you, so I came to see you right away.”

Need-to-know high level watches could only be placed or seen by Cit Surveillance agents. No one outside of the Division would know the files were being monitored. They were kept on all high profile targets, corporate and governmental, in the Administration, mostly to warn Cit Surveillance of possible assassination attempts. He’d placed need-to-know security watches on many files over the years, but he’d only ever placed it on one particular para-investigator. It would alert him when anyone checked Toreth’s security or psych files. Socioanalysis seemed to have a particular interest in Toreth’s psych file last year, but this year things had been quiet. Until now.

“I see. Can you tell me more about these communications?”

“The encryption is current state of the art. However, the pattern of the internal messages is old – from prior to the reorganization, but approved. Once the security file flag was tripped, we took a closer look at the message pattern. We found an unusually high number of similar ones going through the system about eighteen months ago. There have always been messages of that type in the system, but they’d been exponentially increasing over several months after the revolt. There was a note made to see if we could determine why they’d increased, but then they dropped back to normal levels, so no further action was taken. Those messages were financial in nature – stock trading codes. These new ones are coded as corporate security documents. Innocent enough at first glance, but they don’t seem to have any actual documents attached. Just a name – Valantin Toreth.”

“Do you know who owns the comms, where the messages came from and where they were sent?”

“They were single use comms, bought months ago in Strasbourg. No surveillance cameras in the shop, just the market, and it was crowded, so no telling who may have purchased them. The messages themselves originated in Strasbourg, several days apart, but went to two different places. The first one went to a private corporation – Neuro Imaging and Scan Solutions. Before the revolt, Psychoprogramming provided contract services to certain corporations to assess employee loyalty and integrity. After the revolt and the rewrite of the Protocols and Procedures, what was left of the Psychoprogramming Division was moved to Health Care and Research, becoming part of the Department of Medicine. The corporate services were privatized and the rights to the technology sold to NISS.”

“And the second message – where did it go?”

Jones hesitated, then said, “It was sent to the American Embassy.”

“The Embassy? Are you sure?” 

“We checked twice. We’re sure.”

“Alright. Is there anything else?”

“That’s all we have for now. Do you want us to change the priority level on that particular message pattern?”

“Yes, but do it discreetly. I don’t want anyone questioning why. And Jones – good job.”

After Jones left, Sable stood and walked over to the window. From this high up, he could look over all of New London, the ruins of the old city off in the distance.

He’d always been able to compartmentalize his feelings, push them to a place in the darkest, deepest recesses of his mind, lock them away from the cold light of day. It was the only way he could function on a daily basis, the only way he could do his job successfully as an undercover operative for Citizen Surveillance. He’d told Toreth that very thing, once, on their first meeting: _“Emotions are an indulgence I can’t afford. They complicate situations impossibly. They cost too much.”_

He’d told his son at their last meeting that he might be leaving New London. That had been a lie, but he’d had to give Keir a reason to keep his son from trying to find him again, whether in person or via searches of the Administration files. No good could come of it. The old files were closed – Keir and his family were safe from Citizen Surveillance, as long as Keir didn’t pursue how, exactly, Kate had died. 

And knowing Keir, that would only be a matter of time. Hence, the lie to make Keir think Sable was no longer in the immediate vicinity.

And that should have been the end of it, only periodic checks on his part, of the files, nothing more.

The Administration had always come first. He’d sacrificed – willingly – so much, because he believed in the necessity of his work and its part in keeping the Administration in power. He’d never given it a second thought. Even with his mistaken arrest and his having to leave his family, he’d accepted that that was the direction his life was to take.

Thirty years later, he’d got Keir’s message that Kate was in danger and needed help. It had been a shock to see a message come through on that number. He should have had someone else handle it, but given the state of unrest at the time, he wasn’t quite sure who he could trust. Once he understood the situation, he knew he had to be the one to resolve it, no matter how it had killed him inside to do what he had done.

In trying to protect Keir, however, he’d ended up causing his son to search him out, asking for answers as to who was responsible for Tarin’s accident. He had lied to Keir and denied any involvement, but he knew Keir hadn’t believed him. 

That was the moment his world changed – the moment when he’d chosen his son’s life over his loyalty to the Administration. 

Keir knew too much to be allowed to live, yet he couldn’t bring himself to do to Keir what he’d had to do to Kate. He’d got up to follow, yet he’d simply stood there, watching Keir walk away.

Seconds later, he’d glanced down at the table he stood next to, catching the eye of the man sitting there – his son’s lover, the para-investigator, Val Toreth. Toreth had witnessed – everything. 

When they’d entered the bedroom in that hook-up bar, Gegi’s, he’d had every intention of leaving the place alone. He knew by the expression on Toreth’s face that Toreth didn’t expect to leave there alive, either. So, why hadn’t he gone through with it? He carried an injector with him at all times – all agents did – precisely for situations like that. It would have been the cleanest way of handling things, within protocol. Toreth meant nothing to him, yet – he’d hesitated, again. 

Even though Toreth meant nothing to him, he knew how much Toreth meant to Keir. If Sable was concerned about Keir wanting justice for Tarin, what crazy things might Keir do to hunt down his lover’s killer? It would be too coincidental that Toreth died on the same night that Keir had confronted Sable. He’d know Sable had done it.

The plan he and Toreth had come up with had worked out. He thought that that had been the end of it, until Toreth contacted him ten months later to say Keir was trying to find out what had happened to Kate, if she were dead or alive, and if alive, whether she might come back. 

Again, he’d had to lie to Keir, this time about leaving New London, but it seemed to have worked. He’d seen no activity on his son’s part in regard to Kate’s death. When ‘official’ word had been sent to the family, they’d had a small memorial service. He hadn’t been able to attend, but another operative had, and Sable had seen the recording of the service. Watching his son’s face, the grief there was genuine. Toreth had done an acceptable job of being supportive, even though Sable was sure Toreth had wanted nothing more than to get away from there as quickly as was respectably possible.

Perhaps, in the long run, Sable’s inability to kill his own son, and, additionally, his son’s lover, benefited the future stability of the Administration. Toreth had turned into a valuable asset. His insatiable curiosity, coupled with his self-preservation instinct, would have made him an excellent Cit Surveillance operative, if his psych profile had permitted. Those qualities, along with his proven ability to be discreet, enabled him to be assigned some of the most highly sensitive cases. 

Sable shouldn’t have placed the need-to-know flag on Toreth’s file, or, for that matter, on Keir’s – especially not on Keir’s. He’d done it for strictly personal – emotional – reasons. At least with Toreth, they had an excuse of a working relationship. But that could be used only so many times. Toreth’s head of section felt threatened enough as it was by Toreth having a contact at Cit Surveillance. 

So, that meant only one thing. He’d have to set up a meeting with Toreth outside of normal work channels.

⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯

Warrick was busy with some sort of new project at SimTech, working late nights – again. The week days didn’t bother him so much. It was the missed time together on Fridays – kink Friday, as Sarah called it. Even with their living together now, Fridays were special.

Toreth had called SimTech to see when Warrick would be home, but Warrick was in a meeting and couldn’t take his call. Gerry had said they’d ordered dinner in, so didn’t think the meeting would be ending soon.

Well fuck that, then. Toreth wasn’t going to sit around the flat alone, which was how he found himself at Gegi’s, the perfect distraction.

The place was crowded, a mix of people still hanging around after work, joined by ones getting an early start on the evening. He ordered a drink, then walked casually around, seeing who looked the most promising. There were several options. Three women, together, dressed like they had some sort of clerical or admin job, out for a drink after a long day. It would be fun to flirt with them all, get their competitive side going before suggesting a threesome. Even if they weren’t into that sort of thing, none of them would want to be the one to bail out first.

There were two men, both wearing wedding bands, checking out some of the women sitting alone at the bar. He always enjoyed the challenge of married men, especially ones who were so obviously heterosexual. Two would be more work than he wanted to expend tonight, but he could wait until one of them paired off, then go after the other.

There was a couple, sitting at a corner table, absorbed only in each other. They’d certainly be a challenge, but not impossible. If the others didn’t work out, he could give the couple a try.

He headed back to the bar to get a fresh drink, trying to decide if he was in the mood for the threesome or the married men. He had to wait in line for two others to get their drinks first. Before he could tell the bartender what he wanted, a man stepped up beside him and said, “Can I buy you a drink?”

The voice made his heart skip a beat, his senses overwhelmed by a rush of memories. All the times he’d come here, he’d thought of his encounter with Sable, the danger he’d been in that night, the danger he might be in if Sable returned. Now, Sable was here, buying him a drink – his last?

No – no, no, no! This couldn’t be happening. He’d kept his promise to Turnbull! He’d kept his mouth shut! 

“Toreth, don’t look so scared. I just want to talk, privately. Can you get us a room?”

“Um, yeah, sure. Ah, for how long?”

“Can you make it an hour? No, on second thought, make it two. I’m not sure how complicated this may get.”

Shit. That did not sound promising.

Toreth handed over his credit card and got the room number. As they went up the stairs, he wondered if it was the same room they’d been in before.

There was only the bed, a side table, and a single chair. Toreth sat on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, resting his drink in his lap, trying to keep his hands steady. Sable sat in the chair.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you here again,” Toreth said. “It doesn’t seem like your type of place.”

Sable paused, then smiled. “Why, because you think I’m too old to be interested in sex?”

Toreth’s eyes widened. “That’s not what I meant. I meant that, well – I just don’t see you as sleeping with someone for one night. Why else do people come here?”

“In my line of work, I’ve had to take on many roles. Sex is a powerful weapon. Using it effectively can mean the difference between success or failure. One night or long-term, female or male – adaptability is what matters.” 

“You’ve been with men?” Toreth said, genuinely surprised. He had a difficult time imagining it, no matter how many times he’d fantasized about getting Sable into bed.

“I have, when it was called for. I do prefer women, but I’m not repulsed by men.” 

Well, that certainly changed things. Toreth wished now that on their first meeting he’d propositioned Sable after all. 

“But you’re right,” Sable told him. “This isn’t a place I frequent. In fact, should a c&p be run, it would appear that I’m on the other side of town.”

Great. So when Toreth’s body was found – _if_ it were found – no one would even know Sable had been in the area.

Toreth took a sip of his drink, willing his hand not to shake. Best to get this over with. “You said you wanted to talk?”

“Yes, well. I haven’t been keeping up on all your cases, so before I came here, I reviewed your recent history. Impressive work, to say the least. Several commendations direct from Secretary Turnbull, and a trip to America. Not many Administration citizens get an opportunity like that.” A pause, then, “Tell me about – issues – you may be having with anyone in Strasbourg.”

Toreth sat up straight, setting his glass on the table. His hands were suddenly sweaty, so he rubbed them on his thighs. He’d talked his way out of the room once – maybe he could do it again.

“Look, I haven’t said anything, to anyone. I know how to keep my mouth shut. I thought Turnbull understood that. It’s been over a year. Yeah, I accidentally found out who du Pre is – well, maybe not so accidentally – but I deleted the searches and that was it. No one knows, not even Warrick.” _Okay, I guess Sarah does, but she knows better than to talk about something like that. She can actually keep a secret when she has to._

Sable looked unmoved. Damn, didn’t anything get to this man?

Toreth’s shoulders dropped. “I get it. I know you’re just doing your job. Can you, you know, make it quick, at least? And” –he could feel a lump forming in his throat– “let Warrick know, somehow…I don’t want him wondering what happened to me.”

Sable got up and stood in front of Toreth. Toreth closed his eyes, thoughts of Warrick, of chains, and cabinets, and pancakes on Sunday mornings... 

A soft touch to his face gave him a start. He’d expected a needle in the side of his neck, followed by a cold emptiness, not a lingering caress.

“Toreth, open your eyes.” Sable sounded exasperated. “I’m _not_ here to kill you. No one sent me. I’m here to get information, and to help you, if you need it. It sounds as if you got yourself into something you shouldn’t. Besides, I thought we were on good terms. I’ve done some questionable things to make sure you and Keir are safe, and I’m doing my damnedest to keep it that way.”

Toreth felt stupid. It was true. Sable had doctored files, conspired to make Tarin look like an informer instead of the fucking resister that he was, all to keep Warrick safe. But still…

“You’re a servant of the state, just like me. If you were given a direct order to kill me, are you saying you wouldn’t?” Toreth challenged.

“If I were ordered to, I would – you know I would. But since I haven’t been, you’re safe, at least for now.”

Sable sat on the bed next to Toreth. “Given what you’ve already said, are you having problems with Socioanalysis? I know who de Pre is, and who her protégé is. I know how he plotted to have you killed. Considering the mess he got us all into, Carnac certainly is not one of my favorite people.”

Toreth waited, considering what he should do. He’d promised Turnbull he’d never mention the Corporate Conditioning policy. If Sable wasn’t here to kill him, was he here to test him, to see if he’d talk? How much could he say without saying too much?

“Carnac and I hate each other. He tried to have me killed, during the revolt, and I spoiled his plans. There’s more to it, but that about sums things up.”

“You specifically mentioned du Pre. Why were you searching for information on her?”

Toreth sighed. “I’m serious when I say I promised Turnbull to keep my mouth shut. I can’t say what it was about, but in the course of an investigation, I met du Pre. I didn’t know who she was and who she worked for until later. Enough time passed that I thought I was safe – well, relatively safe – until you showed up, asking if I had problems with people in Strasbourg. You can see why I’d think I was in trouble.”

“Did the case have anything to do with a corporation called Neuro Imaging and Scan Solutions?”

“No, never heard of them.”

“What about Psychoprogramming?”

Jesus fucking Christ!

Toreth’s heart began to race. This was getting too close, much too fucking close.

“If you really don’t know, you should stop asking questions right now, or you’ll be down in the shit right next to me, do you understand!” Toreth said forcefully, more forcefully than he probably should to a Cit Surveillance officer, but he had to get Sable to shut up about this.

“All right. Take it easy.” Sable placed his hand on Toreth’s arm. “You don’t have to tell me.” 

Toreth turned to face him. “What’s going on? Why do you want to know all of this?” 

Sable stood and started to pace. “We processed some comm traffic last week. The messages were made to appear as if they contained corporate security documents, but upon closer examination, the only piece of data in them was your name.”

“My name?” Toreth was truly puzzled. 

“We don’t have specifics, other than they both originated in Strasbourg. One went to NISS, Neuro Imaging and Scan Solutions. They took over the corporate work done by Psychoprogramming before the revolt.”

“Bloody hell.” Toreth was almost afraid to ask. “Where did the other message go?”

“The American Embassy.”

“The Americans? What the fuck do they have to do with Corporate –” Toreth froze.

Bloody hell! Bloody fucking hell! So much for keeping his damn mouth shut!

Sable was good, Toreth had to grant him that. Toreth knew how to interrogate, knew the tricks and traps used to get people to talk, and he’d fallen right into one.

Sable opened his mouth, but before he could ask ‘Corporate what?’, Toreth picked up the comm next to the bed. “I need another drink. Actually, I need the whole bottle.” 

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. Sable answered, taking the bottle from the employee, then locked the door again. He poured two glasses and handed one to Toreth, who once again was leaning against the headboard.

“If du Pre felt threatened by whatever you learned about her last year, I think you would have been dealt with by now. It could be a coincidence that these messages originated in Strasbourg. There are other governmental offices there besides Socioanalysis.”

“One day I’ll have to tell you what I think about coincidences.” Toreth said. Then he thought of something. “How did these messages happen to come to your attention in the first place?” 

Sable gave him a quick smile. “I told you – I watch the files. Or, at least in this case, I have ways of monitoring them. It’s better I don’t reveal all my secrets.”

They drank in silence. Toreth finished his drink, poured himself another, then handed the bottle to Sable who refreshed his own.

Toreth wasn’t in the mood for hunting anymore. Staring death in the face could do that to a person. He didn’t like to think about it, but he was getting old. He’d be thirty-nine in a few months, which meant he’d be forty next year. Fine lines were already appearing at the corners of his eyes. He gave Sable a side-long glance. If only Toreth could be lucky enough to look that fit when he was in his sixties.

Two years ago, when Toreth had first read Sable’s security file, Sable’s age had been listed as sixty-five. Toreth knew from his own masquerading as Marcus Toth that a little bit of the truth helped make the lies easier to remember. Age was something Toreth rarely lied about. It was simply too easy to forget, especially after a few drinks. Examining Sable’s body, it was hard to believe the man could be sixty-seven; he looked more like fifty-seven, which still made him older than any of his other fucks. But really, what difference did age make when you looked fit like that?

“You know, we should just make use of the room, get it out of your system. We have at least another hour – plenty of time.” 

Toreth’s mouth fell open. “What did you say?”

“You’re quite transparent,” Sable replied. “Do you think I don’t notice the way you look at me, those long, lingering glances, when you think I can’t see?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to” _–get caught out, thinking about fucking you, wondering what you’d look like naked, if you scream like Warrick when you come–_ “stare. It’s just, well, the way I am…”

Despite the strangeness of the situation, Toreth could feel himself getting hard. Maybe this wouldn’t be a wasted night after all.

“I’m not upset by it. In fact, I’m quite flattered that someone as young and attractive as you would be interested in me. Now, get undressed and turn over. I don’t bottom. I hope that’s not a problem.”

Bloody fucking hell!

Bloody. 

Fucking. 

Hell.

“No. No problem at all.”

⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯

The world was made up of coincidences. Part of Toreth’s training was to keep from reading too much into them, especially when a case stalled for lack of evidence.

Being summoned to Turnbull’s office a week after his encounter with Sable could be a coincidence, but he didn’t think so. Had Sable been testing him after all? Had he passed, or would he enter Turnbull’s office and find her with du Pre, armed guards flanking them, waiting to take him to Level C? Was there an Annex order waiting for him, issued as a special Council waiver?

But when Edwards showed him into her office, he let out his breath in relief. Unlike his other visits here, she was alone.

She greeted him warmly. “Please, have a seat.” She gestured to the chair in front of her desk. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I’ll try and make this quick. Do you follow American politics much?”

Another coincidence, that she would bring up American politics two weeks after a comm message with his name in it had been sent to the American Embassy?

“Not really. Didn’t they have an election last year? Something about there being an upset, but that’s all I know.”

He remembered Warrick being excited about it because SimTech might be able to take advantage of a more favorable business climate, but truthfully, Toreth hadn’t been listening all that much. SimTech business bored him.

“Yes, it was quite an upset. According to the review conducted by Socioanalysis, no one felt the Progressive Party and President Stevens had a chance. The Fundamentalist Party had won every election since the bombings. However, the government had become more intrusive over the years, including placing limitations on the rights of women and minorities, all in the name of Christianity. Apparently, enough Americans were fed up with it and voted them out of office.” 

Turnbull cleared her throat, then continued. “Tell me, did you get on with Agent Ruiz?”

“Yes, in fact, he was quite helpful during the investigation. He seemed to be the only one interested in getting to the truth. All the rest just wanted the case closed.” 

“Good, good. I do believe you’re the right man for this job. You’ve proven yourself to be trustworthy and discreet. This assignment is highly sensitive. No one, absolutely no one, can find out about it until the official statement is made.”

Toreth nodded. “You know by now I can keep my mouth shut.”

She frowned a moment, then smiled. 

“Indeed. So, here is the situation. The Administration has been negotiating a trade agreement with President Stevens. The agreement would rescind tariffs on technology and research put in place by both countries after the bombings. On Friday, Socioanalysis is presenting their report on which corporations that have established an interest in doing business with America would have the highest probability of success. Next week, a public statement will be made revealing the trade agreement, the corporations involved, and President Stevens’ three-day visit to New London in September to sign the agreement.

“Obviously, the first visit by the President of North America since the bombings is a significant event, both politically and – emotionally. It will be highly publicized, high profile, and high-risk, likely to draw supporters and opponents from both the Administration and America. Agent Ruiz will be in charge of security for the American entourage. I’d like you to coordinate the Administration’s security detail.”

Toreth sat in shocked silence. A visit to the Administration by the North American president was something he’d never have thought possible in his lifetime.

“I’m flattered by your confidence in me. I realize this is highly sensitive, but will I be able to use my team to investigate potential threats? I’d like them to keep a look out for any leaks about this ahead of the announcement. Leaks could indicate a group already has someone on the inside.”

“I’ll leave that up to you. You’re the best judge of who you can trust at I&I. Agent Ruiz arrived yesterday and is staying at the American Embassy. He’ll need an escort around New London while he evaluates venues and security for the visit. It would be impossible for him to do it on his own without drawing attention. As soon as he spoke, he’d be marked as an American. I’d like you to do the talking for him. With you there, and in uniform, no one is going to challenge you or ask too many questions.”

“I understand. I need to tie up some things at the office, reassign some of my open cases.” 

“That’s fine,” Turnbull said. “I’ve already spoken with your section head about the assignment – not the details, just that it’s a highly sensitive case and that you’ll be answering directly to me. Until the announcement, you should carry on as if nothing has changed, that this is simply another favor you’re doing for the Bureau.”

Well, that should certainly make Tillotson’s day. If he didn’t think Toreth wanted his job before, he certainly would now.

⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯

When Toreth left Turnbull’s office, he’d called Sara and had her reassign his cases. She knew he’d seen Turnbull and wanted to know what was going on, of course, but he told her he’d talk to her and the team about it tomorrow, that today he’d be unavailable except for emergencies. Then he’d grabbed a taxi, calling Ruiz on the way to the American Embassy. They’d spent the day driving around New London, reviewing possible venues for the Trade Agreement signing. They decided on the Grand Hall, a few miles from the American Embassy. It was supposed to be a replica of one that had existed before the bombings. At least they didn’t have to evaluate hotels where the president and his entourage might stay – the American Embassy was spacious and the most secure place for them, what with its twenty foot steel slat boarder surrounding the entire perimeter.

At the end of the day, Ruiz had suggested dinner. Now they were at the Renaissance Center, sitting at the bar having drinks, waiting for their table. They’d been focused on location and security of the facilities all day, and this was the first time they’d had a chance to relax.

Toreth looked over Ruiz with an appraising eye. As Darcey Grimm had so tactlessly pointed out, Ruiz was an attractive man, and married. Exactly Toreth’s favorite type of challenge. But having to work so closely with him would be like being on the same team, and since Toreth didn’t fuck inside his team, Ruiz was more or less off limits.

“I was surprised to see you’re working for the new President. I thought you were, you know, a hard-core Catholic,” Toreth said.

Ruiz laughed. “You could say that. The Catholic church doesn’t encourage their followers to think for themselves. After you left, I started questioning some of the things I’d been taught. You did good work. It seemed ludicrous that your credibility was destroyed simply because – well, because you have a male partner. Mind you, I still believe it’s morally wrong, but I’m not God – it’s not up to me to judge you, or anyone else.

“Stevens came along, with the same sort of message. He made a lot of sense, pointing out that Jesus Christ would never treat certain segments of the population the way that our government was currently doing, that the government wasn’t God and should not be passing judgement. One of the first things he did was to pardon anyone convicted of the sodomy law. Then he worked with the legislature to decriminalize it. He said that what two people do in the privacy of their own home should be just that – private.”

God, he hoped Ruiz would never say that around Warrick. It was difficult enough trying to get Warrick to have sex in semi-public places.

“I don’t really follow American politics. Turnbull said President Stevens’ election was an upset because no one expected him to win.”

“No, they didn’t. It was a surprise when he won the party nomination in the summer, and an even bigger surprise when he actually won the election. Every poll showed him trailing, and even though it was by a small margin, no one thought he could overcome it and beat President Tennant.”

“Um, not to sound stupid, but what are polls?”

Ruiz shook his head. “Sorry, I keep forgetting you don’t have a free press over here. I always hated statistics when I was in college, so only have a basic understanding of how it’s done, but the news outlets make random calls to people throughout the country and ask them who they’re going to vote for, and the news people make predictions from the results as to who is going to win.”

“You mean people – ordinary citizens – receive comm calls, asking them who they’re voting for? And predictions are made from that? No wonder they got it wrong.”

Who in their right mind would admit the truth to a random caller? Toreth may not like Socioanalysis, but he had more faith in their lab rat training to make predictions than he ever would in a mere comm call.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it. I even got a call from one of them last year. I’ve always wondered how they picked who to poll because I’ve never been called before. It was an interesting experience.” 

“Really? Sounds bloody boring to me. What was so interesting about it?”

“They don’t want you to know exactly what they’re polling about, so they ask other questions, too, not just who you were voting for. I recorded my call. If you want, I can send you a copy.”

Toreth thought a moment, wondering if there might be any legal ramifications about having a copy, but in the end, his curiosity won out. “Sure, send it over to my hand screen.”

It took a moment for the copy to transmit. Toreth filed it under case notes so he could listen to it later.

“So Stevens wasn’t all that popular then?” Toreth asked. 

“No, but he’s done his best to try and bring the country together. There was a lot of ill-will on both sides, immediately after the election. The Fundamentalist Party accused the Progressives of voter fraud because not only was Stevens elected president, but the Progressives took control of both the Senate and the House. However, close examination of the results by both parties showed the vote to be legitimate. There was nothing left but for the Fundamentalist Party to concede.”

“How much – serious – trouble do you think we can expect from Americans during Stevens’ visit?”

“I’m not really sure. Travel to the Administration is highly restricted, not to mention expensive. There’ve been plenty of protests and violence by the religious far-right, but I doubt any of them would be a threat over here.”

“That’s what I thought, too. There may be some resister activity from Administration citizens once they find out about the Trade Agreement and visit, but we should be able to handle that. Most are going to think of the visit as one big party.

“Once the participating corporations are decided on, my suggestion is that we contact their corporate security and involve them in our plans. They’ll be a good resource to have, and quite frankly, they’ll be around anyway. I’d rather have them working with us than getting in our way. We can do joint training exercises – kidnapping and ransom, active shooter, suicide bomber, bioterrorism, dirty bombs – those are the most common threats from resisters. Or corporate sabotage if some company feels they should have been selected and got left out.”

“I believe your Socioanalysis Department should be releasing their report on Thursday. I have a meeting scheduled with Secretary Turnbull and the Socioanalysis team on Friday to go over the results.”

“Do you know which spook– um, socioanalysts, were working on the report?” Toreth asked.

“I recognized Darcey Grimm’s name, but not the others.” He checked his hand screen. “The memo I got about the meeting said it would be chaired by Camille du Pre. The other report contributors are Jean-Baptist Carnac, Adrian Davis, Mariana Sanchez, and Stefan Thomas. Do you know any of them?”

_I know that you sleep on the left-hand side of the bed. I know that you’ve come with my name on your lips. I know the details of the diagnosis in your psych file. I know that you want Keir to love you more than you have wanted anything in your adult life and that the uncontrollable need makes you sick with terror._

Damn. Of course Carnac would be one of them. 

“Toreth?” Ruiz questioned.

“Yes, I’ve met several of them. I’m sure they’re all highly qualified.”

Ruiz smiled. “I’ll send you a copy of the report when I receive it on Thursday. I suppose now that you’re officially assigned to security, you should be at the meeting as well.”

Socioanalysis. And Carnac. And du Pre. All he needed was Psychoprogramming to show up. Everyone who wanted him dead, all in the same room.

“Great. I wouldn’t miss it.”

⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯

When Toreth walked into the flat, he smelled the lingering aroma of food. Some sort of steak? The flat was dark, but a light shown from the living room. Warrick was sitting there, a bottle of wine and a half-empty glass on the table. He was reading something on his hand screen, but looked up when he saw Toreth.

Even though they’d come to an understanding that Toreth could do as he pleased, as long as he didn’t bring any of his fucks back to the flat, there was occasional tension between them when Toreth would come in late, like now. 

“Sorry I didn’t call,” Toreth said, walking over to the bar to pour himself a glass of something stronger than wine, not sounding sorry at all. “You’ve come in late every night for the past few weeks. I didn’t think you’d be here tonight so I ate out.”

“I’m not upset, and I wasn’t checking up on you. I stayed up until you got home because I wanted to talk to you tonight, about why I’ve been so busy at SimTech.”

Toreth sat next to him, placing his feet up on the table and taking a sip of his drink. “Can you make it quick. I’m knackered. It’s been a long day.”

Warrick hesitated, giving an annoyed glance to Toreth’s shoes on the table before looking back to Toreth. He smiled, and Toreth relaxed. At least they didn’t seem to be about to have a blazing row, although the make-up sex would be nice.

“This is confidential, but things are pretty much finalized at this point. I know you don’t pay much attention to SimTech business, but when you went over to America last time, I told you how we’d been trying to get an export license to do business over there. Well, we’ve finally been approved.”

Toreth paused, his glass raised part way to his mouth. “You’re part of the Trade Agreement? Of course you would be. I should have known that. Well congratulations. SimTech’s going to be selling units to Americans then.”

Warrick looked startled. “You know about the Trade Agreement? That’s highly sensitive information.” Then he looked alarmed. “You haven’t been having me followed again, have you?”

_The possibility of a future repetition of this behavior would make it impossible for me to continue our association._

“God, no. Don’t even think that,” Toreth said quickly. “I know because Turnbull’s assigned me to do security for the signing of the agreement. That’s what I was doing all day, taking Agent Ruiz all over New London, looking for a place to have the signing ceremony and reception. He’s in charge of security for President Stevens’ visit.”

Warrick looked impressed, then frowned. “I’m sure you’re entirely capable, but isn’t it – well, dangerous?”

“No more dangerous than any of the other assignments I’ve had. There’ve been protests and violence over in America, but Ruiz and I both think that it’d be too difficult for any of them to get over here.”

“What about our citizens? There are those who are never going to forgive the American’s for being the ones to supply the dirty bombs. I doubt they’ll be happy that we’re resuming trading relations with them, even on a preliminary basis.”

Toreth looked at him. “Do you really want to know about I&I’s methods?”

“No, forget it. I’m sure you’ll have things under control,” Warrick said. “Since you’re aware of the Trade Agreement,” he continued, sounding guarded, “I should ask – do you know about the process used for selecting which corporations would be participating?”

Toreth sighed. “You mean, do I know about Carnac?”

“He wasn’t the only socioanalyst there,” Warrick said defensively. “The one you worked with in America, Darcey Grimm, was there too. They did different sections of the report.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll get all of it first hand on Friday. I’m going to the meeting when Socioanalysis reports back to Turnbull. Should be interesting. Hopefully I’ll live through it.”

“What does that mean?” Warrick asked.

Toreth stood up. “Never mind. I need a shower. Let’s go upstairs.”

⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯

It had been a productive summer. Finally, all their hard work and preparations were about to pay off.

It was a sunny, warm day for September. Air Force One had just landed at the New London Airport. All air traffic in the area had been suspended for the day, and although there had been some grumbling from several corporates, the overall atmosphere was one of excitement and anticipation. News outlets had even been granted a rare, hour-delayed live broadcast of the arrival and motorcade to the hotel. 

A rolling staircase had been moved to the plane. The doors were opened and President Stevens emerged, waving to the cheering crowd. His wife, Nadine, stepped out to join him, and together the two descended the stairs to be met by the prime minister.

Behind the president and first lady were the rest of the American delegation. 

Including, to Toreth’s surprise, a familiar face. 

“That looks like Agent Cardine?” 

“Who?” Ruiz asked.

“Agent Cardine, there, coming down the stairs,” Toreth replied. “I didn’t know she was working security. I thought she was a specialist, a psychiatrist, right?”

“Ah, yes. Dr. Cardine is now Secretary Cardine. She heads the newly created Department of Religious Protection.”

Toreth gave Ruiz a sideways glance. “Why is there a department for that? I thought your whole country supported religion. Why would religion need protecting?”

“President Stevens has done his best to bring the country together after the election. This past summer, he created the Department of Religious Protection to counter the far right's claim that the Progressives were working towards repealing the Founding Fathers Amendment to the Constitution.”

“I see,” Toreth said, even though he really didn’t. The American Constitution wasn’t something that was taught in citizenship classes here, not that he’d ever paid attention in class. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t seen her in New London before today,” Ruiz commented, “She’s visited with Secretary Turnbull several times since we were here looking for Luke Elliot. She received a special visa and used to visit the Embassy every few months, doing research with NISS – it’s one of the corporations that got chosen as part of the Trade Agreement.”

Before Toreth had time to think about what Ruiz had just told him, the president and first lady entered the limo which would take them to the Embassy. The route had been kept confidential until just that morning in order to reduce the risk of a preplanned resister attack.

“Shall we?” Toreth said, and they made their way to their own vehicles. Toreth and two service personnel would be in the first SUV at the head of the motorcade. They’d be followed by two SUVs with the American Secret Service and then the president’s limo. Ruiz’s SUV would be next, and finally, B-C and Morehen, each in their own SUVs with two service personnel. 

Toreth thought the arrival and motorcade were ridiculously high risk things to do, but the American’s wanted to be able to show their people back home how welcomed they were over here. Ruiz had told him that at one time in America’s history, Presidential visits overseas included transporting their own vehicles, up to fifty SUVs and limos, in huge planes. One visit even included sending over helicopters! Why they had to transport their own vehicles over here he’d never know. If you asked him, it seemed like a huge fucking waste of money.

⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯

Toreth was bored. He didn’t care about any of the speeches. There were no signs of trouble. They’d had their informants out in full force, on the lookout for anyone wanting to purchase illegal explosives, guns, etc., but everything had been quiet.

He was tired of standing around. He wanted to be sitting with Warrick instead of having to watch Warrick with Asher, Lew, Dilly, Cele, and Sarah, all laughing and celebrating the signing of the Trade Agreement.

“Feeling lonely?”

Oh, fucking hell. The last thing he wanted to deal with right now was Carnac.

“Go away. I’m working.”

“So am I, as well you know.”

“I don’t care. You’re distracting me. Turnbull wouldn’t be happy if I let President Stevens get assassinated because I was too busy killing you instead of doing my job. Now go away.”

Of course Carnac didn’t listen. It was too much to hope for that he would actually leave before finding some way to pick at one of Toreth’s many insecurities.

“I have to say that I’m quite surprised that you and Keir have managed to cohabitate for as long as you have. I’m sure the coming time apart will be a relief to both of you, being able to go about freely once again, not having to answer to anyone as to where you, or he, spends the night.”

Toreth glanced sharply at Carnac. But Carnac wasn’t looking at him; Carnac was staring at Warrick.

“What do you mean, ‘time apart’?”

Now Carnac did look at him, giving him that infuriating smile. 

“Didn’t Keir tell you? He’s going to have to go to America to set up SimTech’s production facilities there. He’ll be there a minimum of six months, maybe a year.”

Toreth gaped at him, then blurted, “I don’t believe you.”

Carnac laughed. “I may not always tell you everything I know, but I don’t lie. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Finally, he was gone. Toreth hardly noticed. He was watching Warrick instead – Warrick smiling, laughing…Sara and Cele laughing and smiling, too. What were they talking about? Had Warrick told them he was going to America for a year? We’re they laughing at Toreth because he didn’t know?

Just then, Warrick got up from the table and headed towards the bar. Toreth called Ruiz on his comm. Ruiz was stationed with B-C at the hall entrance.

“Ruiz, I need a quick break. Can you send B-C over here for about fifteen minutes.”

“Sure, no problem.”

Toreth saw Ruiz speak to B-C, then B-C turned and headed Toreth’s way. Toreth didn’t wait. He wanted to get to Warrick before Warrick ordered his drink.

There were three people in front of Warrick. Toreth grabbed Warrick’s upper arm and pulled him out of line, moving them out into the side hall.

“I need to talk to you, right now.”

Warrick looked alarmed. Well, he should be. When would the lying fuck learn to tell the truth, that Toreth would always find out in the end.

Toreth used his ID to open the door to one of the unused conference rooms and pushed Warrick inside, locking the door behind them.

He shoved Warrick hard into the wall, grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head. Warrick didn’t say a word, just stared at Toreth, a little bit afraid, but a lot turned on, judging by the unmistakable hardness of his cock.

Toreth leaned in and kissed him. Damn – right now, he didn’t care about Carnac and his attempts to cause trouble. 

“I’m going to fuck you, but you can’t scream. You have to be quiet. Think of all those people out there, dignitaries, ambassadors, the President of North America for fucks sake. You don’t want them hearing you, so if you don’t think you can keep quiet, let me know and I’ll gag you.”

Warrick’s heart was beating fast. “Please, Toreth! Not here. Don’t do this to me, not now. I’m begging you.”

“You want it, and you know it. This isn’t public sex. No one is going to see us. The door is locked and I’ve set the code to only open for me. This room is off limits to everyone because we couldn’t get the surveillance cameras working, so no one is watching us either. The only way anyone will know what I’m doing to you is if you scream when you come. Now what will it be, gagged or not?”

“No – no gag,” Warrick gasped.

Toreth removed Warrick’s tie, then turned him roughly to face the wall. “Now put your hands behind your back.”

He wound the tie around Warrick’s wrists, then reached around and opened Warrick’s trousers, pushing them down just enough to expose his arse. Toreth undid his own trousers, then said, “I’m going to fuck you now. Be very, very quiet. It’s only you I’m thinking about. I couldn’t care less if they all knew what I was doing to you, especially that bastard Carnac. You have him to thank for this.”

Before Warrick could reply, Toreth pushed inside. Warrick gasped, clenching his hands into fists, pulling on the ties. 

“God, Toreth – fuck me! Please, I – I want you to fuck me. Don’t stop! Please –”

As Warrick’s pleading became louder, Toreth had to clamp his hand over Warrick’s mouth. That was enough to push Warrick over the edge, and he came, Toreth following a few seconds later.

Finally Toreth untied Warrick’s wrists and they both began to fix their clothing. 

Warrick looked warily at Toreth. “What did you mean I had Carnac to thank for this? What did he do now?”

Toreth frowned. “We can talk about it later, but basically he told me that you were going to be leaving for a year, that you had to go to America to take charge of SimTech’s manufacturing facilities there. We’ll work it out. We always do. It’s just – you know how he is. He said it to wind me up, and it worked. I should know better by now. He’s just trying to cause trouble between us, like normal. He hates me, I hate him – you know, normal.”

Warrick laughed. “Well he’s more the fool. I don’t know where he got the idea that I would be the one going to America. He recommended it in his report, but it certainly wasn’t a requirement. Lew is in charge of hardware, so he’ll be the one going. I’ll be making periodic trips, but no more than a few weeks at a time. And you’re more than welcome to come along.”

Toreth walked over to the door and unlocked it, holding it open for Warrick to go through first.

“Well, since President Stevens decriminalized sodomy, I think a return visit to America could actually be fun this time around.”

When they walked into the main hall, Carnac was nowhere about. Too bad – Toreth would have loved to see Carnac’s face when he caught sight of Warrick’s well-and-truly-fucked rumpledness.

B-C saw them and walked over. “Para, can I talk to you a moment?”

“I’ll see you later,” Warrick said, and left to go back to the bar for his drink.

“B-C?”

“The first lady isn’t feeling well, I guess jet lag from the trip. She wants to go back to the Embassy and Cardine said she’d go with her. Ruiz wants them to use the limo and have Agent Drew drive them. He’d like you to follow in one of the SUVs.”

“Sure, I think things are under control here. Tell Ruiz to give me ten minutes to secure the route.”

He called Sara. He could see her laughing with Cele right as she answered.

“Toreth? Everything okay?”

“I’m escorting the first lady and Cardine back to the Embassy. Call Central Transport and have them put the route security protocol into place. Make sure they know this is an added one, for the first lady. The president is still here and we’ll be doing a second one later when he leaves.”

“It’s just the limo and your SUV?”

“I don’t want to draw too much attention so it will just be me following behind.”

He saw Ruiz talking with Cardine at the front entrance. He walked over to join them. 

“The limo is out front. Are you ready to go?” Toreth asked.

“Yes, let me get Nadine. We’ll be out in a minute.”

⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯

The American Embassy was a few miles away from the Hall. The route was completely clear. Central Transport had done a good job. They arrived in less than five minutes.

They had to reduce speed as they approached the Embassy perimeter and wait as the front gates opened wide enough to allow the limo through.

An engine roared to life, the sound coming from Toreth’s left. He turned his head, blinded by bright lights. Instinct kicked in. He pulled the steering wheel to the side and floored it.

There was a loud sound of crunching metal and glass. The breath was knocked out of him and his head jerked to one side, then the other, slamming into the driver’s side window. Through his blurred vision, he could make out the limo as it safely disappeared through the Embassy gates.

He shook his head, trying to clear it. Fuck, that was a mistake. It hurt like hell. He reached up to touch his right temple, feeling something wet and sticky. He pulled his hand away and in the dim light thought he saw blood.

He pushed his door open but when he tried to get out, his legs wouldn’t hold him and he fell to his hands and knees. Footsteps, coming towards him. How many were there? Two, three? 

His gun! He needed his gun.

“Be sure it’s him.”

Someone grabbed him from behind, yanking him up and pushing his back against the SUV. He tried to fight but he felt too weak, his head spinning. A light shown in his face.

“Yeah, it’s him.”

He was turned roughly around to face the SUV, his hands moving reflexively against it to keep himself steady. He felt the cold steel of a gun press against the back of his head. 

He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth, waiting. He wondered if he would feel any pain, even if only for a fraction of a second, when the bullet tore into his skull. He didn’t want to die, but he wouldn’t beg for his life, either. At least he’d had one good fuck – no, _great_ fuck – with Warrick, before the end. 

“Nothing personal. Just doing my job.”

Toreth heard the sound of a gun shot, then another. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. A body, at his feet, face down on the ground – unmoving. A second one, by the front of the SUV. 

“Just doing my job, too.”

“Sable?”

Toreth’s legs started to give way, but strong arms wrapped around him, keeping him standing.

“You looked like you could use some assistance. You okay?” Sable asked. “You’ve got a nasty cut there.”

“Um, yeah. Bumped my head on the window. Should be fine. Just one hell of a headache.” He turned and focused on Sable. “How the fuck did _you_ get here?”

“I told you – I watch the files. Once I found out you were on security for the president’s visit, I increased my monitoring, made sure to stick close. I intercepted a comm message tonight, about you leaving the Hall and escorting the president to the Embassy, so I thought I’d follow at a discreet distance.”

“Thank fuck for that. You just saved my life.”

Sable held out a gun in a gloved hand. “Here, take this and give me yours. I’ll switch the sign-out registry so it will look like you’re the one who killed them when the ballistics are done. No one can know I was here.”

“What about the surveillance cameras? They’re all around the perimeter.”

“They must have scrambled the feed. I tried to tap into it before I got here so I’d know what the situation was, but only got static.”

Toreth’s comm went off. Ruiz calling.

“Toreth! Are you all right? I just got a frantic call from Cardine. She said you got hit by a truck or something. It happened so fast, she didn’t really see it, and then they were through the gates but you didn’t follow.”

Toreth watched as Sable turned, walking briskly down the street. He got in a black sedan and drove away. 

“I’m fine. Just a bit banged up. I need to call B-C.”

“Yes, sure. Agent Drew wanted to know if he should wait to bring the limo back.”

“It’s a mess out here right now. Give me about thirty minutes to get it cleaned up. I’ll let you know when we’re done.”

Toreth called B-C as soon as he finished with Ruiz.

“Para, what’s going on?”

“I need you to get a transport crew here stat, before the American press finds out about this. Someone just tried to” _–fucking kill me–_ “attack the president’s limo. I got two dead guys, and I destroyed my SUV when I drove it between a big truck and the limo.”

“Good God! I’ll get on it right away.”

“Oh, and B-C. I need you to come get me and take me back to the Hall. I have to update Ruiz on the situation.”

When B-C and Toreth got back to the reception, dinner had ended. The music was loud and the dance floor crowded. It looked like no one had heard about the accident yet. He saw Ruiz with Warrick. Ruiz saw him first, then Warrick spun around and walked quickly towards him. His eyes went to Toreth’s forehead. 

“You’re hurt! What happened? Ruiz said you were in an accident.”

“I’m fine, really. I have to work but don’t worry. I may not be home tonight, or if I am, it will be late.” Toreth glanced around, spotting Emma Queen. “Have Queen take you back to the flat, in person.” Warrick opened his mouth to say something, but Toreth held up his hand to stop him. “Just a precaution. It will be one less thing I have to worry about.”

Warrick smiled then. “Fine, but be careful. And you should get that seen to,” he added, pointing to Toreth’s head. “At least wipe off the blood so you don’t alarm people.”

Toreth briefed Ruiz about what happened, leaving out the part about Toreth being the actual target and Sable saving his arse. There were enough Secret Service, Homeland Security, Corporate Security, and I&I personnel around that Ruiz didn’t think it would be a problem for B-C and Sara to go with Toreth to I&I to run an ID check on the two dead bodies.

Once they got to Toreth’s office, Sara sat at Toreth’s desk and started the search. Within minutes, their names and photos appeared. “Oh! Here we are. Now that’s a coincidence. Isaac Stern and Noah Chambers, both used to work for Psychoprogramming. Stern left first, about seven years ago. Chambers left a few months before the revolt. Stern worked as contract corporate security for several small corporations. Chambers joined him later. After the revolt, they created their own small company, RSE – Residential Security Evaluations. They had a brisk business, what with all the corporates moving, looking for more secure housing. Neither have any record of doing anything illegal, let alone sabbing of any kind, but they certainly would have had a lot of corporate contacts. Maybe the money they got offered was too good to pass up.”

While Sara searched, B-C got the forensics back on the truck. No DNA other than the two men’s. The back of the truck was filled with surveillance and computer equipment, along with photos and videos of the president, taken over the past two days: his arrival at the airport, the limo, the SUVs, Ruiz, and Toreth. It looked like they’d even used a long range autonomous mobile device to get overhead video of the motorcade as it went from the airport to the Embassy. There were maps – one of the area around the Embassy, and another which showed a location of an abandoned building near the city center, on the edge of the radiation zone. When Justice had arrived to search the place, they’d found food and water in the basement. It looked like a kidnap attempt, but the motive was unclear. With the two men dead, they’d probably never know.

The comm recovered from Stern’s body showed only one text, received right as Toreth and the limo had left the Hall. The text read: _Pres, Val Toreth leaving_. The ID of the sender showed unknown. It indicated that someone at the Hall had been working with them and watching from outside.

“Why couldn’t it have been someone on the inside?” Sara asked.

“Because it appears that whoever sent the text,” B-C explained, “thought the president was in the limo. If they’d been inside, they’d have known he hadn’t left.”

“I’ll call Ruiz and let him know what we found. Good job. You both go home and get some sleep. Tomorrow will be an easier day since Ruiz will be working mostly with corporate security for the president’s tours of the corporate facilities.”

After they left, Toreth leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs. His head was throbbing. He should get to a clinic to have it looked at, then get home and get some sleep. He needed to be able to think clearly, and he was simply too tired to do so right now.

The one thing he was sure of – the evidence, everything in the truck – was faked. They hadn’t planned on kidnapping the president.

They had planned on killing Toreth.

⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯

Toreth examined himself in the mirror the next morning. There’d be another scar there, adding to the one he’d got during the revolt, but it was at the edge of his hairline so not all that noticeable.

Warrick had already left for SimTech, to prepare for the president’s visit. SimTech was third on the schedule, right before lunch. The first was Med Science Implants, followed by ITS Architects, then SimTech. After lunch would be Biomimetric Institute Of Design, and lastly, Neuro Imaging and Scan Services.

Toreth was processing things better this morning after a full nights rest. He called B-C first.

“I’m going in to the office this morning. You’re in charge at the first two tours. Call me if you need to, but try and not need to. I’ll see you at SimTech.”

When he arrived at the office, Sara was already there, two coffees on his desk. 

“I want you to find everything you can on Cardine,” he told her. “Ruiz said she’s been coming over here every few months on a special visa. Even though we don’t have movement notification anymore, she’d be required to report where she was going when she left the Embassy.”

The search only took a few minutes. “She started making trips here a few months after the revolt. The trips were about ten weeks apart. She’d be here for a week, then go back to America,” Sara said.

“Where did she go while she was here?” he asked.

“She went to see Secretary Turnbull as soon as she arrived, and again before she left. The only other place she went was Neuro Imaging and Scan Services. She went there every day she was here, nowhere else. I wonder if she had anything to do with them being a part of the Trade Agreement?”

“Is there anything on why she was going to NISS?” he asked.

“Her visa says it was a joint medical study. She was working with Dr. Alan Howes. He’s the Director of Scan Applications and Research at NISS. Looks like he was going over to America as often as she was coming here.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Alan Howes. As in Alan Howes, from Psychoprogramming.

“Does it say how long Howes has been with them?”

“Hmm, looks like about seven years? I don’t see anything on him before that. It may have been lost during the revolt. Lots of records were.”

Or Howes had the records deleted, like he’d done with Marian Tanit.

“Send me the dates that Cardine was here, and the dates Howes traveled to America. What was the study about? Did they publish anything?” 

“Let’s see… There’s a blurb in their Trade Agreement announcement: NISS has already been assisting the North American government with their Healthcare For All initiative, providing a scan solution which decreases the amount of time an individual must lie still, from four hours to a mere thirty minutes.”

They looked at each other when she’d finished reading.

“What the fuck does that mean?” he asked.

“I have no idea. Do you want me to try and find out?”

“No, the best person to ask is an American. I’ll see Ruiz at SimTech and ask him about it then.”

⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯

The president was getting a tour of the sim. It was boring having to watch. Perfect opportunity to question Ruiz.

“I’ve been reading the corporate press releases on the Trade Agreement. Did you know NISS was already doing business in America?”

“Yes. It’s quite unusual, but they developed a breakthrough scan technology and the public was eager to have it approved. Cardine worked hard to get them a special waiver on the technology tariff so their system could be installed at a reasonable cost in all scanning centers.”

“What are scanning centers?”

Ruiz looked thoughtful. “I suppose our health care system is quite different from yours. Basically, in America, everyone is given access to free health care. Annual body scans are required as a preventative measure to help keep costs down. Things like cancer, arthritis, bone disease, and mental disorders can be identified and treated in their early stages. People hated getting scanned, though. You have to lie still for four, five hours. One tiny movement, one twitch, cough, or sneeze, and the scan has to begin again. Children had the worst time of it. They can never sit still long enough. There was a huge controversy over drugging them to get them to be still. 

“Then NISS came in about a year and a half ago. Their scan system cut the time from hours to just thirty minutes, sometimes only fifteen. It was revolutionary, to say the least.”

Toreth couldn’t imagine having to lie still for four hours. He’d barely made it through the last scan Warrick did of him for the sim. That had been just under two hours. Now if Warrick could use a NISS scanner…

“I can see why people would prefer it. Why was Cardine involved?”

“Before she became Secretary of Religious Protection, she was in charge of National Medical Screening centers.”

They sat in silence after that, Toreth staring at Warrick, motionless on the sim couch. He hated it when he knew Warrick was in the sim with another man, always wondering what they were getting up to, remembering his and Warrick’s first time in it together. If he really thought about it though, he highly doubted Warrick was in the sim sucking the president’s cock.

⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯

Rain was falling lightly on the last day of the president’s visit. Toreth had been waiting in his SUV for the motorcade to leave when Ruiz called him inside the Embassy. To Toreth’s surprise, the president was standing in the foyer and motioned him over.

“You’re Senior Para-Investigator Toreth? I was told that you were the driver escorting my wife and Sarah when the attempt was made to ram their limo. I wanted to express my appreciation to you in person for what you did.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m sorry that the first lady wasn’t feeling well and had to leave early.”

“Yes, I was too. She’d been fine until dinner but something she ate didn’t agree with her so I thought it best she go back to the Embassy. Fortunately, you were there. I hate to think of what might have happened otherwise.”

“Just doing my job, keeping them safe.”

“For some reason, you look familiar. Have you ever been to North America?”

“Yes, sir. I was there about two years ago, as an observer during a case involving one of our Embassy employees.”

“Ah, yes. I know who you are. You solved the case, but then were treated quite poorly by the government because you have a male partner. They escorted you from the country, didn’t they? Well, I’d like it if one day you’d return. Bring your partner with you. I promise you’ll be well received this time around.”

“Thank you sir. Have a safe trip back home.”

⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯

Toreth was wide awake. Warrick was sleeping peacefully beside him. Sex had been great – the first time they’d been able to just relax and have a leisurely fuck in weeks. The fuck at the Hall didn’t count – there was _nothing_ leisurely about that one. Except that now Toreth couldn’t sleep. To many thoughts were filling his head.

The president’s visit was over. He and his entourage had made it safely to the airport and back to North America without incident. Ruiz had returned with them, anxious to get home after spending so much time in New London. 

Secretary Turnbull had praised him, another commendation in his file.

Except that someone had tried to kill him. And he needed to work out why. 

There were too many fucking coincidences. 

There were the messages that Sable had told him about. That was where it began. Strasbourg, NISS, and the American Embassy.

NISS, where Alan Howes worked. Stern and Chambers must have known him at Psychoprogramming. 

Toreth being chosen for security for the presidential visit, two weeks after a message was sent to the American Embassy – had that been done to put him in a position where he could be killed without drawing suspicion on themselves? The likely suspect was someone in Socioanalysis, du Pre probably, sending one of those conditioning suggestions to – who?

He pulled out his hand screen and checked the dates that Cardine had been here. Yes, it showed the end of April. Had she been the one to recommend him to Turnbull?

Odd that the first lady had got sick after dinner the night of the reception when no one else had. Someone could have easily put something in her food so that she’d have to go back to the Embassy. Cardine, again, suggesting he escort them back? 

Then there was NISS providing scanners for everyone in North America, and Alan Howes, who’d worked in Psychoprogramming, working at NISS.

When did Sara say he and Cardine had started their research project? A few months after the revolt?

He checked the dates that Howes had been in America. There – the one in the fall, when he and Darcey Grimm had been working the Buchheit case, Howes had been in America. Was that why Grimm had been sent there, so she could meet with Howes, or Cardine? He thought there’d been someone else with Grimm when he’d caught up with her his last day there, at that rooftop bar at the Tower. 

So Howes had been in America in the fall. The next January or February, NISS had started setting up medical scanners, according to Ruiz.

The end of January – that was when the corporate conditioning material had been taken by du Pre.

Had she given it to Howes?

Oh, fucking hell.

He checked the time. Two in the morning. Much too early to be calling Systems. 

He hoped Senior Systems Specialist Dale still worked there.

⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯

“The messages aren’t all that similar at first glance. Your polling message doesn’t contain any encryption, just someone asking a bunch of questions. There’s music playing in the background, throughout the call, but then you get to this point here,” Dale pointed at a graph on his screen, “where the two names are mentioned. Stevens and Tennant. There’s a slight change in tone, barely distinguishable through the music. It took several passes to isolate it. Those tones are almost like the ones that were in the stock trading code. Not exactly the same, but pretty damn close. If I overlay the polling tone over the stock tone, you can see a difference here and here.”

Toreth stared at the screen. 

No wonder they’d tried to have him killed. This was more than just causing trouble between corporates and the Administration. This had international repercussions.

“Do you want me to save the analysis?” Dale asked. 

“No, delete it all. I just wanted to satisfy my curiosity about American politics.”

⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯

Toreth’s heart was racing. This was an incredibly suicidal thing to do, but he wanted it to end, one way or the other. He wasn’t going to keep looking over his shoulder, wondering when the next attempt on his life would be made. They could either kill him now or leave him the fuck alone.

The building was one of those glass and steel monstrosities that had been popular before the bombings, the design making a comeback in the past few years.

He walked through the revolving door and over to the receptionist. A second set of doors were behind her, probably locked, opening only if a visitor was approved.

She smiled at him pleasantly. Nice features: high cheekbones, petite nose, full lips and perfectly straight, white teeth. A definite ten on the fuckability scale.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“My name is Val Toreth. I’m here to see Socioanalyst Carnac.”

She looked surprised. “I don’t show any appointments for him today. Is he expecting you?”

“No, he isn’t. We worked together, a few years back” _–when the bastard tried to have me executed, along with the rest of I &I–_ “and I happened to be in Strasbourg. I thought I’d stop by to see him.” 

“He’s a very busy man, but let me call and see if he’s available.”

He looked around the lobby, spotting the security camera above the door. He stared straight at it, smiling broadly. He could imagine Carnac’s reaction when he answered the comm and the receptionist told him who was here.

Toreth had had to do a c&p to find out Carnac’s current location. He’d been in New London since the spring, probably working on the Trade Agreement report, but had returned to Strasbourg the day after the reception.

“He has time to see you now, sir. His office is on the twenty-first floor.”

He found Carnac’s office right away. In the outer part of the office was a receptionist and several workers at their desks. Behind them was another door, where Carnac stood, waiting.

“Toreth, what a pleasant surprise. Please, come in.”

For a moment, Toreth began to regret his decision, but he forced his feet to move and he quickly made it across the room. 

Carnac gave him that irritatingly dazzling smile. “Tell me, what brings you to Strasbourg?”

“I want to see du Pre.”

Carnac’s eyes narrowed. “Impossible. She’s a very busy woman.”

“I’m sure she is. I know I can’t get in her office building on my own, and I doubt she’d take my call. But she’ll take yours.”

“Why do you want to see her?”

“It’s a private matter. I can only discuss it with her.”

Carnac stared at him for a long moment, then picked up his comm. The call went through immediately. Had she been listening in? Probably.

“Camille, I have Senior Para-Investigator Toreth here in my office. He’d like to see you.”

“Good morning Jean-Baptiste. Yes, I heard he was there. Please, bring him over.”

Toreth wasn’t sure if he should feel relief, or dread.

⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯ ⚯

Socioanalysis had two complexes in the city of Strasbourg. Their headquarters was in the city center, with the rest of the governmental buildings. However, the serious research took place in their second location, away from the distractions of the busy city.

Carnac’s office was within walking distance of the research building. He scanned his ID at the entrance, holding the door open so Toreth could enter. Toreth hesitated. This was it. His last chance to turn and run. If he went through those doors, and his plan failed, there was no guarantee he’d be coming back out. In fact, he was sure he wouldn’t.

He took a deep breath, and entered the lion’s den.

The elevator doors opened directly into a large but tastefully decorated office. The entire city could be viewed through a wall made completely of glass. It had the feel of floating in the sky.

“Para-investigator Toreth. I’m quite surprised to see you here, given how everyone remarks on your self-preservation instinct. Please, have a seat.”

Well, that certainly sounded ominous.

“Why did you wish to see me?” she asked.

Toreth glanced at Carnac, then back at her.

“You can speak freely in front of Jean-Baptiste,” she added. “We have no secrets from each other.”

So, Carnac knew about the conditioning. Did all of Socioanalysis?

“I want you to quit trying to have me killed,” he said.

A look of mock surprise crossed her face. “Why would you think I want you dead?”

“Because you feel threatened by what I know, about the corporate conditioning, and you think I can’t keep quiet about it.”

“I see. An astute observation.”

“I told Secretary Turnbull that I knew how to keep my mouth shut, and I do. And I _have_. I’ve given you no reason to think otherwise, yet because you don’t believe someone with my psych profile can keep quiet, you want me dead.”

He turned to Carnac. “You thought someone with my psych profile wouldn’t be capable of maintaining a long-term relationship, yet here I am, going on eight years with Warrick.”

He looked back to du Pre. “I think someone needs to reevaluate my diagnosis.”

Du Pre held his gaze. “You may be right. Unfortunately, I can’t take that chance.”

Toreth’s heart sank. So, no convincing them of his ability to keep quiet. 

“Fine, then let me spell things out in a way you’ll understand. I know the North American election was rigged. I know the medical scanners put in place by NISS had the conditioning program installed in them. I know the polls sent the tone to voters to make them feel good about Stevens and bad about Tennant.

“And most importantly, I know Howes’ part in it all.”

“Oh, and why is that important?” she asked flatly.

“I first met Warrick eight years ago while investigating several murders related to the sim and SimTech, one of who was Legislator Pearl Nissim. The investigation concluded that it was a case of corporate sabotage, and the killings were done by Marion Tanit, a senior psychologist who worked for SimTech at the time.”

He paused, waiting for his words to sink in. Carnac stiffened slightly. Had the bastard already known about Tanit? There was only one person he could have found out about it from, and that was Warrick. Toreth was going to have a thing or two to say to him when – _if_ – he got back to the flat tonight.

“And?” du Pre prompted.

“Marian Tanit was working for Alan Howes and Psychoprogramming. They wanted to bankrupt SimTech and get the rights back to the technology of the sim. Alan Howes was responsible for the murders.”

De Pre’s mouth dropped open. If Carnac knew, he obviously hadn’t told her. Nice piece of information that might come in handy one day.

Du Pre quickly recovered. “If that were true, why wasn’t it the conclusion of the investigation?”

“Because it would have caused trouble between the corporations and the Administration. And because I didn’t want Psychoprogramming coming after me for finding out about it.”

“I don’t see how any of that is relevant now.”

“Well, aside from the fact that I know how to keep my mouth shut, I still have the proof that he was involved. If I suddenly die, for whatever reason, that information will be released to the American press. From my own experience with them, they can be quite tenacious when they smell a scandal. Do you really want them to be scrutinizing Howes’ actions these past few years? How long do you think it would be before they discover the conditioning code?”

Silence filled the room. Carnac didn’t move. Du Pre tapped her fingers on the desk.

Finally, she said, “You have no further need to be concerned for your well-being. You have made your case. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?”

_Blackmail-style insurance only works if the right people know about it._

Thank you, Warrick, for that very important lesson.

Toreth managed to suppress a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted them to see was how absolutely fucking terrified he’d been.

“No, nothing else. Thank you for your time. I know how busy you are.”

He and Carnac both stood. As they entered the elevator, she said, “Keep yourself safe, para. The future of the Administration depends on it."

 

_The End_


End file.
